


Heart of Courage

by lextenou



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lextenou/pseuds/lextenou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>H.G. Wells and Myka Bering, forever destined to meet at cross purposes. Written in the interest of continuing the Bering and Wells saga beyond the reach of time and space. Set in an anachronistic alternate universe involving swords, sorcery, wenches and mead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Regio We Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired and named with permission for Kayryn's pic, located here: http://kayryn.tumblr.com/post/56426634879/bering-and-wells-heart-of-courage  
> and also inspired by the follow up here: http://kayryn.tumblr.com/post/57477436803/bering-and-wells-knights-v-2-0
> 
> GLOSSARY:  
> Regio: Region, district, province  
> Duodecim: Twelve  
> Tredecim: Thirteen  
> Vespers: evening prayers  
> postern gate: similar to a "back door", an entrance into a castle other than a main drawbridge  
> lettre de cachet: letter of charge, direct orders from a ruler - in this case a Regent, Caretaker or a Knight Agent  
> villein: a peasant who is bonded to the lord of the manor. Also known as a serf.  
> trencher: wooden plate or platter used to serve or carve food or meat. Alternately, a thick slice of bread used for the same purpose.

 

The low fire cast long shadows in the softness of the morning air that filled the Regio Duodecim tower office. Caturanga and most of his Knight Agents were rather fond of the fresh air provided by the long, narrow windows - the slimly muscled woman at the doorway included. Long days and longer nights had been her reality for much of her life as a Knight Agent of the Regio Duodecim, and would continue to be so were nothing to change in her life. The smooth dark hair that framed her clear, aristocratic features cascaded down and brushed against her shoulders, the shade matching the deepness of her steady gaze. The sword hanging from her belt bore a well worn and cared for grip, a clear sign that much had happened within her time in Duodecim's halls. The wound to her shoulder from the bout the night previous ached mightily in the morning breeze. She should probably stretch it out and prevent herself a surprise in the form of an inconvenient ambush. They did always seem to arrive right when they were most unwelcome.

Quiet words melded with the calm air of the study as they came from the man she called mentor. "You're going to Tredecim. Find out whatever you can. We meet on the battlefield in a fortnight."

H.G. Wells dipped her head in acknowledgement of the task then strode from Caturanga's study. It would be most interesting to explore the possibilities within Regio Tredecim. The transfer of knowledge was proving to be more difficult than anticipated. Perhaps the recon she was now tasked with would provide some hints as to how to expedite this and allow her to retire to her family lands. She wasn't entirely certain that she wished to retire, but could think of no tether to keep her bound to the new Regio. It seemed as good of a time as any to hang her sword on the mantel.

Her mind turned from idle speculation to necessary plans as her long legs carried her to her quarters. It would not do to show in full armor. Not for the task she was charged with - it would smack of duplicity. In truth, though she was to be duplicitious, it would not do to appear to be so.

She packed quickly, tunics, a spare belt, her knife, breeches. For this mission, discretion was less required than comfort and capability. After a moment's thought, she slipped the papers indicating her status within Regio Duodecim into an oilskin pouch, tucking the entirety into the side of her pack.

A discreet mount would be better than the normal steed she preferred. So too would it behoove her to only take the smaller pack of essential toolkit rather than the small case packed with sundry tinkering items. Perhaps she'd be able to work out the ideas for that new catapult more effectively in alternate surroundings. Travel across the pond was simplistic with the latest advancement, and she arrived to her destination as the call to vespers rang out.

Her arrival at Regio Tredecim was quiet and unremarkable. The postern gate was opened as soon as she showed her lettre de cachet bearing the deal of Caturanga to the guard. Few people milled about the courtyard, their duties taking them elsewhere during the early mists of the evening. She made her way unescorted around the grand hall, her goal sequestered away in the tall keep. In short order, she was knocking at a heavy wooden door braced in iron.

The dark, ageless woman that opened it did not appear surprised to see her visitor. "Knight Agent Wells. Enter." Dipping her head, H.G. entered the quiet room, her eyes rapidly scanning the clean and tidy space. The only visible egress was via the door she had entered or the window opposite. Neither were relevant to the woman who now played host. "Your charge." H.G. handed over the sealed missive without hesitation. The cracking of the wax seal sounded loudly above the low fire's ambiance. The few simple lines explaining her charge were rapidly read. "Very well. Should you succeed, this will be most advantageous to both Regio. Dismissed."

H.G. dipped her head once more and strode from the room. The solid clunk of the door closing behind her drew a deep exhalation from the woman. Now, to begin.

Her booted feet drew her to the grand hall she had passed by so rapidly upon her entrance. As she rounded a blind corner, her frame collided with a solid opponent. The burst of a vengeful oath emerged from the figure that had clashed into her as her hands reached out and grabbed onto solid elbows. Her fingers gripped soft skin, bared by the brief sleeves of the fawn colored tunic H.G. had barely had time to glimpse before the collision.

A smooth, harried voice sounded quietly between them. "I do apologize. I was not looking where I was going."

"No, no." Eyes the shade of the sky just before a violent winter squall met her own and H.G.'s brain took a stuttered step. Her assured voice faltered. "It's my fault entirely."

A long breath stretched in the space between them, H.G. staring at the solid woman that had introduced herself with the press of a long body against her own. Long curls draped either side of the smooth and handsome features, the line of a stubborn chin tilting upward as an embarrased smile curved an intelligent mouth. "You're new here." Long fingers smoothed over H.G.'s shoulder, thankfully far enough out to prevent any sensation of H.G.'s triphammer heartbeat from being felt.

"Aye. Just arrived." Her voice did not sound like that. H.G. Wells did not sound like a simpering ninny. Except right now, there was a decidedly delectable woman in her arms and she very much so did.

An impulse flashed across the features from which H.G. was unable to break her gaze. The words that came were rushed, impetuous, yet tinged with a curious note of tempered suspicion. The woman must be a Knight Agent to speak so. "I have yet to take the evening meal. You're welcome to join me. I'd like to hear about your charge here."

A slow, broad smile curved across H.G.'s face. The bright eyes before her took in the line of her mouth, a blatant stare to which, had H.G. not still had her hands on the woman's skin, she might have taken offense. Granted, such offense would have been with the understanding that she herself had been staring for quite a while. "I should be enchanted to do so."

"By what name are you known, stranger?" The soft heat of exhaled words against her cheek was not unpleasant. A slow build of heat began within the depths of her stomach.

"Helena."

"Charming." A grin and a slight lean inward drew H.G.'s breath in sharply. "Come, Helena. Leena makes a wonderful repast."

The withdrawal of the other woman left H.G. feeling unaccountably cold in the rapidly darkening evening. "Wonderful, is it? I'm sure the airship captains would be most upset to hear their canteens do not enchant travelers any longer."

A snorted laugh emerged from the other woman. "As though they ever truly did." An elbow was extended to H.G., and she took it, her hand wrapping around the warm skin once again as they began to walk. "Please feel free to call me Myka. Or if you must, Sir Bering."

H.G.'s smile was hidden by the near darkness of the evening sky, but the reflection of lit torches caught the clarity of her eyes and made them appear to burn from the depths. "If you insist." Softly, she allowed herself the indulgence of caressing the name she had been gifted. "Myka."

The rushes and reeds that littered the ground prevented much of the mud that H.G. was used to, a welcome change. "Did you travel far?" H.G. did not wish to dissemble, instead choosing to shake her head and make a soft negative. So far as distances traversing the globe, she had not travelled truly far, just far enough. Especially with such a boon greeting her at the destination. "Tell me of your home."

The soft plea stole her breath, and H.G. found herself speaking before she could think better of it. "The hills flow with soft greenery. In the spring, the game emerges in plenty, for which all the villiens are grateful. The sky sings with summer storms and winter snowfall, yet always there is richness in nature's beauty and the way we mould it to our ends while living within its confines." A soft laugh emerged as she stepped over a stray rock in their path. "Though in faith, there's yet to be anything the likes of which I've seen in my brief time here."

Myka's laugh came low as the surest of musics to H.G.'s hearing. "True. We've much that no other has encountered." H.G.'s lips curved in a knowing smirk, well aware of the cache that existed beneath their feet. "Ah, Pete. Say hello to Helena, a guest."

The broad shouldered man turned, his lightweight tunic tight against the muscles of his chest. "Mykes!" At a glance, he gathered the way the wind blew. "Well met, Helena. If you get bored of Myka's fixation on old, dead writers, look me up." With a wink, Pete held the door to the hall open for them, deliberately ignoring Myka's withering glare.

"I'll be sure to bear that in mind, though I doubt I'll have need. I find myself much fascinated with 'old, dead writers'."

Myka's brilliant smile was reward enough, it's good humour filling H.G.'s chest with an unnatural warmth.

"Myka, Pete, hello. And who is our guest?" The robed woman before them smiled in broad welcome.

"This is Helena. She is guesting here." Myka glanced at H.G., who gave a slight nod at Myka's summation. "I do hope you'll not make me a liar, I promised a wonderful repast."

The dark woman scoffed in mock indignation as a shocked cry greeted them. "You did not just call Leena a liar!"

The slim page that bounced up to them in a flurry of rapid movement had H.G. blinking in shock at the whirling energy. Myka's tone carried a warning note. "Claudia." The pixie like young woman stopped and truly gathered the sight before her, seeing the protective bent of Myka's hand wrapped 'round H.G.'s on her arm. Behind Myka, Pete mimed lewd hintings regarding Myka and their guest to the slender redhead.

"Ah! Lady, apologies." Claudia bowed deeply, not daring to reach out for a hand.

H.G. could not help the amusement that coloured her tone. "'Tis quite alright, I assure you. Well met."

Claudia straightened, her smile beaming with honest humour. "Papa Bear has a closed door with one of the Regents, so it's just us tonight." Pete shook his head wildly from side to side. H.G. gamely ignored his energetic mime behind her. "Or it would be if I didn't have to fill Pete...in...on...something. Come on, Pete!"

Reaching around them, Claudia grasped Pete's arm and forcibly pulled him toward the kitchen. Myka watched the entire proceeding with a single raised eyebrow, her placid expression betraying nothing more than a nonplussed reaction.

"I'll bring out your dinner." With a smile, Leena left them standing at the doorway. H.G. looked over at Myka, a calm and amused smile curving her lips.

"Are they always like that?"

"Fairly consistently." The sighed response spoke more about Myka's long suffering stance than any single event ever could. "Shall we, then, since my comrades seem determined to force us into company?"

H.G. laughed and followed along with Myka's forward motion. "I could think of no other with whom I'd rather hold company."

A confident and rather flirtatious smile curved in her direction, the shining eyes sparkling with good humor. "Your tongue is passing flirtatious."

"A complaint, sir knight?"

"Never." The soft smile was likely to linger along H.G.'s thoughts were it not supplanted by something other.

The food arrived before they'd fully settled into their seats on the rough hewn benches, trenchers deposited before them by a smiling Leena. H.G. dug in with the enthusiasm of one starving and found herself much surprised by the rich flavor of the thick stew.

"You spoke falsehood earlier." A single raised eyebrow turned to H.G. at her soft accusation. "This is not merely wondrous, 'tis a revelation."

The smoky chuckle that emerged from the knight was one that H.G. knew would feel downright salacious were it to emerge against bared flesh. "Leena is herself a revelation. Do not be put out should she wish to read your aura."

Choosing to ignore the advice, H.G. lifted another forkful of the thick stew to her lips, taking in the freshly herbed scents that wafted to her nose. A far cry from the repast she'd had the night previous, provided as it had been by Wolly.

"Were it my choice, I should stay here forever and enjoy Leena's cooking." H.G. smiled. "My time here will be regrettably brief."

"A pity." Myka sopped up a bit of the escaping stew with a piece torn from a fresh roll. "I should be honored were you to spend even the briefest of your time with me."

The flush that suffused H.G.'s cheeks was entirely unexpected and as such, spread to enflame much of her features. She grasped the wine before them and took a long pull before she was able to voice her response. "You speak prettily."

"For beautiful woman such as yourself, I would speak purest poetry."

H.G. ducked her head, her appetite having fled rapidly beneath the assault upon her affection afforded by the entirely far too attractive knight next to her. Leaning over, she pressed her chest against Myka's arm, her softly spoken words going no farther than the knight's ear. "You need speak not poetry to have me. You need but ask." The length of muscle in the arm between her breasts tightened in flexion at the import of the heated words. The arm disappeared from her touch and snaked around her waist. The hand opposite reached out and grasped the wine goblet before them, raising it to allow the knight to swallow a draught of wine before turning to H.G., eyes dark with intent.

"I would have your company for as long you'll allow it."

Softly, her words rushed from her lips, her eyes riveted on the hovering kiss before her, so close she could almost feel it against her already. "I can promise no further than the morning light."

"I'll take it."

Myka's arm tightened around H.G.'s waist, pulling the visiting woman fully against the knight's frame, their mouths meeting in rushed passion. In the blink of an eye, they vanished from the common room and rushed upstairs to Myka's chamber.

In the kitchen, the trio of watchers let the door close softly, exchanging wide eyed stares.

"YES! I TOLD YOU! IN YOUR FACE!" Pete's exhultation rang loudly in the enclosed space, both Leena and Claudia crossing their arms and rendering him with a long suffering look. "What? I did!"

"Yeah, but she's leaving tomorrow, you heard her."

"Well, yeah, but she's upstairs right now. With Myka." Pete looked back and forth between the two of them. "You know? Going upstairs?"

Claudia scoffed. "Like that has ever stopped someone from leaving before?"

"True, but not my point. She's never done _that_  before." Pete flung a thumb over his shoulder, vaguely gesturing to the common room. "She's not the impulsive one, that's me. She doesn't do things like," Pete's hand flung through the air in another vaguely effectual gesture, "That!"

Leena couldn't keep the worry from her expression. "I just hope it will be enough."

Claudia turned her head. "Spill with the mystical beans. What did you see?"

Leena's teeth worried at her lip. "She's not just visiting. She had a purpose in coming here."

"Well, yeah, super secret bunker of wonder and misery, no one ever just 'shows up'." Pete paused, his expression changing from excitement to dawning dread. "I just got a very bad feeling about this."

"I just hope it's not to do with Duodecim."

Pete shook his head slowly. "She said her name is Helena." Pete grimaced. "How long is Artie supposed to be with the Regents?"

"What did you do now, Pete?" The flustered man that blustered in through the doorway carried numerous parchments and scrolls in his arms. "Wait, I don't want to know. If I don't know, I don't have to punish you."

"It's not me. It's Myka." Artie turned to Pete, his eyes blinking owlishly behind the thin circular frames of his glasses. "She's upstairs with, uh, well -"

"Do you know anyone named Helena who would have reason to be-"

"Helena? As in H.G. Wells? H.G. Wells is here?!" Artie's shout of indignation was enough to still the room for a long moment before they broke free of the shock.

"Wait, what?!"

"THAT is H.G. Wells?!"

"I thought she was familiar."

The last, from Leena, had Pete and Claudia turning to the woman in stunned stupefaction. Artie rubbed his temples. "Tell me everything. Did you tell her anything? Where is Myka?"

"No, we didn't tell her anything! She's, uh," Pete leaned backward, speaking out of the side of his mouth. "Help me out here, Claud!"

"H.G. and Myka are upstairs and we think they're going to - Artie, wait!"

The last was shouted at Artie's rapidly disappearing back as he stormed up the stone staircase that led to the quarters of the Knight Agents and their apprentices. Not knowing what else to do, the rest of them followed. Pete hoped he'd be able to prevent Artie from throwing open the door and finding what he knew damned well he would be doing if he had H.G. Wells behind closed doors.

"Artie, wait, they're - oh, gods, kill me now." Claudia stopped in her mad dash as Myka's door gave way beneath Artie's mad rush. The slamming of the wooden door against the stones was enough to draw aggrieved shouts from within the room, both drowned out under the roar that emerged from Artie.

"H.G. WELLS, GET THE HELL OUT OF MY REGIO!" It was only after these words were shouted from depths of his chest that Artie actually bothered to take in the view before him.

Violent scarlet rushed over his face, making Claudia very glad that she hadn't peeked around the corner of the door. Pete, however, was right behind Artie, and released a low whistle. The murderous glare of Myka's furiousity was the first thing he noticed. The second was that the exact location of her hand was not visible behind the shielding bulk of her body. The third thing he noticed was the resignation and rapidly dimming passion on Helena's features.

"As you say, Lord Nielsen." The smooth words were clipped, anger tinging the short sentence with a venom Pete had never heard before. Myka's hand recoiled from the woman in alarm at her speech, the surreptitious wiping of her hand against the edge of her tunic telling Pete more than he really wanted to know about where that hand had been. A quick motion at the waist of her breeches and H.G. was again presentable, Myka's form still shielding much of her body from the view of the two in the doorway. "I _suggest_  you speak with your Caretaker posthaste." Pushing herself away from the fire warmed stones that Myka had pressed her against, H.G. stood before them. "I am not that which you think I am."

With that, H.G. shot a quick, tortured glance at Myka, then strode from the room. Artie and Pete both recoiled from the approaching woman, unwilling to be caught in her way as the waves of anger rolled from her.

The anger that flowed from the retreating woman was as a summer breeze when they turned their gazes on Myka.

"What. The hell. Do. You think. You are doing." Her roiling rage filled the all too small space of the room, aimed directly at the two men before her, bearing the full brunt of her frustrated desires turned anger. Her low voice thrummed with a rich purr of menace. "Just what, precisely, do you think you are doing."


	2. Mission Underway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> H.G. has a mission. Myka assumes one as well.

The clatter of bootheels on broad boards echoed from the stone and timber walls, dimming as the nervous, angry energy that emanated from H.G. Wells passed. The bonded of the Regio had begun to trickle in from their prayers and duties, forcing H.G. to nod in greeting to people as they passed. The iron framed wood of the door to the courtyard swung open and her hand wrapped around the edge in reflex as it slammed into her palm. The slight servant girl in the doorway looked startled at the tall form before her, mumbling apologies as she scurried to the fireplace with her armful of wood.

H.G. lengthened her stride, passing through the doorway and into the courtyard.

That had been an unmitigated disaster, though it had started pleasantly enough. Myka had a rather adept touch. She wondered idly if the knight drew her bow left or right handed. She was certain that the callused fingertips that had brushed over her bore the mark of an experienced archer. She hoped she would have the opportunity to find out.

Her step faltered as she recognized the monk before her, his high round brow shiny beneath the thin mop of hair that lay flat against his skull. Naturally, this would be who she ran into as her center still felt sticky and pulsed with the tension that had yet to be released. "Good even, father."

His perfunctory glance to her was accompianied by a thin smile before he turned away. Then he turned his head, recognition sparking in his shrewd hazel gaze. "Knight Agent Wells." The flat tone carried with it the implicit interrogation.

"Father Valda. Well met." H.G. paused, her expression deliberately placid as she loosely clasped her hands before her. The dying light caught a glimmer on the ring that glistened from her right hand. Valda's eye cast over it, recognition sparking within him and drawing his spine straight.

"Ah." The soft sound of acceptance, possibly hinting of support, relaxed the tension that laid across H.G.'s shoulders. It would not do to have the Regents thinking she was as Artie obviously thought she was. Though to be sure, Caturanga or one of their own had surely already informed them of the current plan, given where it had originated.

Still, acknowledgement was required. H.G. merely stated, "Yes." The simple acknowledgement of Valda's suspicion bore fruit, his face cracking into a wry smile.

"Knight Agent Wells. There is a guesting house in town." His lip quirked as the words splashed over her. She dipped her head, acceeding to his unspoken command. "Godspeed."

"As you say. Thank you, Father." H.G. turned and strode from the courtyard to the stables. Her steed should be rested enough for her purposes.

 

* * *

 

Artie opened his mouth to respond to Myka's aggravation, his brows drawing together in consternation. One hand - the hand that had been hidden between the women's bodies, Pete couldn't help but think - slashed through the air yet again and forestalled any words from the most senior of the Knight Agents.

"No! You do not have permission to speak." Her turbulent green gaze snapped over to Pete. He hadn't felt this much trepidation since the last time his mother- "And you!" Pete swallowed, taking a half step backward as Myka narrowed her eyes at him. A breath of silence stretched between them, pregnant with an unspoken threat. Her voice came in soft, measured tones, each word bitten off as so much offal. "I am taking a walk."

Heavy bootheels struck the floor, ringing in the quiet room. Artie and Pete slid fully away from the door, Myka's resounding censure ringing in their ears. She hadn't been that mad even when Pete had accidentally made her mount throw her into the river. After long shameful moments, they heard her footfalls recede as she strode away with sharp movements, each strike of the solid bootheels ringing loudly in their ears.

Claudia looked back and forth between the two men before her who had yet to move. Artie's frown was deep as he evaluated the words Myka had thrown at him. Pete resembled nothing so much as a kicked puppy. "I am so glad I stopped before I got to the doorway."

 

* * *

 

Acquiring lodging was simplistic. The tavernkeep was able to easily direct her to the spacious guesting house. The fresh, light scent of cleanly laundered linens had immediately assaulted her senses as she entered the house, a simple pleasure that she was unaccountably grateful for. Regio Duodecim was rather...behind the times when it came to such luxuries.

A deep sigh accompianied her movement as she stretched her arms above her head in a languid release of the last of the tension that she could easily handle. The plan was in motion. She would hear back shortly, of this she was absolutely certain. Whether it was by one of the Knight Agents or by the delectable Myka, she didn't much care at the moment. Regardless, she was certain that it would be upon her all too soon.

One long fingered hand reached into her travel pack, reappearing with a smooth flat stone, its dull grey gleam opaque in the candlelight. She rubbed her thumb across the surface with a lazy pattern, her mind ticking through the report of what was to come. It took the barest moment before she felt the vibration of the stone in her palm and the shining pate of her mentor appeared in the middle of the flat stone. His voice emerged, unaccountably loud in the stillness of her purchased lodgings.

"Ah, delightful! It appears you have arrived in one piece. Come, come, tell me."

The man's enthusiasm could be infectious, and H.G. found herself smiling in reaction. "They know who I am. Or they think they do. I fear the suspicions were correct. The lead does not trust." H.G. allowed the briefest memory of the way that Myka had smiled at her flash through her mind. "One may be willing to trust me without being read in."

"Excellent. Proceed as you see fit. I will trust in your judgement. Remember. They know not that which we do. That will be our strength." His caring eyes held a deep concern for her, not assuaged until he saw her nod.

"As always, I will reach out should I require anything further." She hesitated, before allowing herself to express the emotion that she normally kept hidden. "Thank you."

He smiled. "You are most welcome, Knight Agent Wells."

The image of his smile had barely disappated when a sharp rap on the door sounded. The smooth leather grip of her dagger was in her grasp before its echoes had died, her booted feet striking sharply against the floorboards in a resonant approach.

The thick door was flung open, half of her body obscured by the heavy wood. The slim figure that jerked back at her abrupt opening of the door was only partially unexpected.

"Myka." She stepped back, her fingers gesturing to the interior of the room. "Do enter."

Silently, the woman followed the invitation, her feet lightly striking the boards as she balanced on the balls of her feet. Her arm brushed against H.G.'s side, just barely catching against the curve of one breast. H.G. firmly grasped her control and cast her eye over the empty hallway. At the least, this time they might not be interrupted. She slid the lock into place and turned, her words already on her lips.

"I wasn't expecting-" Her greeting was cut off by the abrupt press of Myka's mouth against her own, callused hands brushing against the her sides and catching against her loose tunic. H.G. flattened one palm against the swell of Myka's chest, her acquiescence bringing with it the sweet taste of Myka's passion.

Softly murmured words emerged between kisses, lips pressed against the smooth skin of an exposed throat. "We should talk first." Tremulous, the words came out as breathy pleas, the seeking of an accord between them.

"Later." Myka's kiss was hard against H.G.'s mouth, frustrated passion flaming between them with the memory of their aborted encounter. "Not interested in talking right now." Myka tugged at the tunic between them, her hands wrapping around the heated skin of H.G.'s waist. "I've had a shit-tastic day and right now I'm going to do something just for me."

H.G.'s eyes fluttered closed at the roughness of Myka's tone, desire turning the smoothness of her voice into a husky rasp that scraped along H.G.'s very soul. Her hand fisted in Myka's tunic, grasping it and pulling it taut as she tugged her suitor closer to press their bodies tightly together. The warmth of Myka's heated touch caressed along H.G.'s consciousness, and she ached for more contact.

When it came, H.G.'s voice erupted as a growled invocation. "What is that?"

Myka wrapped one hand around the curve of H.G.'s waist, her thumb brushing over the dip just inside one hipbone. She raised her gaze to meet the heated one that watched her in sweet desperation. The depths of her caressing verdant eyes was such that H.G. felt the breath catch in her throat at the raw passion on display. "You."

The clothes between them were dragged from their bodies in rapid succession, the smoothness of their torsos touching in the sweet benediction of shared desire. Their first touch had been rushed, and this would be no less, but it's difference would lie in the truth that they would not be crudely interrupted by business. Sweat blossomed on their lithe frames as they stumbled toward the bed, their breeches being pulled away from insistent hands, each step bringing them closer to the full press they craved.

"What-"

"Stop talking."

H.G. hummed low in her throat at the command, her hands curving around the soft muscled swell of Myka's hips, dragging their bodies flush with a single aggressive pull. The groan that emerged from Myka was more than sufficient to indicate her agreement before they fell atop the softness of the eiderdown blanket. Callused hands wrapped around hips held H.G. close as she pressed against her suitor, one slim thigh pressing flush againt Myka's center. The breathy moan that erupted sent H.G.'s head spinning, her fingers twitching against the long jagged line of a scar that betrayed an old wound.

The tangle of their limbs was more than sufficient, the breath escaping as grunts and moans into the night. Perhaps it was the newness of their coupling. Perhaps it was that they had already begun earlier. Perhaps it was even as simple as being impatient.

Regardless of the reason, they rapidly ascended to dizzying heights with strangled shouts and grasping clutches.

She wasn't entirely sure what all had just occured between them.

She did know, however, that it would happen again.

From the floor, the rumpled mass of Myka's breeches vibrated loudly against the boards.


	3. Operation Lancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some questions are answered. More are left unspoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lancer" was the Secret Service codename for John F. Kennedy.

From the bed, Myka raised her head and glared at the offending mass of cloth and leather on the floor, vibrating merrily to announce that some would have her attention other than the naked woman in her arms. A soft nip of a kiss was pressed to the underside of Myka's jaw, Helena arching up from the bed to perform the caress. A low hum of released pleasure emerged from deep in Myka's chest. Her hips ground against Helena's, the cooling sweat on their bodies attaching them where they touched in a decadent embrace. The shift upward of Helena's leg between Myka's thighs had her groaning and pressing into it, softly murmured words emerging into the stillness of the bedroom.

"If I don't answer, he'll just keep calling."

Helena chuckled softly, her broadly callused hands curving nicely around Myka's hips. "As I've no plans to move anytime soon, I believe it would be best for you to answer him so we may resume our activities."

Smirking, Myka slid herself up Helena's body, the press of their naked skin drawing a soft fluttering sigh from the prone woman. The air of the room was unaccountably cold as she slid out of the sheets to sit on the edge of the bed, her toes grasping at one leg of her breeches and tugging the mass of discarded clothes close enough for her hands to grasp. The vibration continued, steadily announcing that her earlier statement was absolutely true. Her hands dug through the pocket of her breeches as she felt warm kisses being pressed against the length of her back. One arm wrapped around her waist loosely as soft words were mumbled against her hip.

"Hurry up. It's been over a hundred years since I've had the pleasure of lover's touch and I'm loathe to stop so quickly." Myka looked down at the merry twinkle of dark eyes peeking at her from next to her hip.

"Presumptuous ass." Myka ran her hand through dark hair, relishing the feel of the silken locks. "Just like I'd always thought you would be." Her free hand held the smooth flatness of opaque stone, and her thumb traced her answer pattern.

"Ah, so you have read my work. I knew you had a thing for old, dead writers."

"Mykes!" The squawk from the stone was youthful, feminine, and most of all, scandalized. Myka angled the stone upward, removing the swell of her breasts from the field of vision. "Stop scarring me for life!"

Laughing abashedly, Myka shook her head and grinned at the youthful page. "Sorry, wonder girl. What's got you interrupting my me time?"

Claudia squinted at her for a moment from the surface of the stone, then her current task came back to the fore. "Mykes, we've got code blue, H.G. stole one of the artifacts."

Myka raised an eyebrow. At her hip, she felt the woman that was curled around her shake her head in the negative. "When?"

"About-" Claudia checked her chronometer. "Seven minutes and thirty seconds ago." A hand curved around the relaxed expanse of Myka's rear, almost making her jump.

Myka tilted the stone to the ceiling, and looked down at the woman who had a deliciously tempting set of lips pressed against her hip. She whispered, a grin on her lips, "I will have my revenge on you." Tilting the stone back down, Myka straightened her expression into seriousness. Clearing her throat, she made her request. "Claud, is Pete nearby? I need to talk to him."

"Uh, yeah, hold on a second." A scuffling came through the stone and soon the wall of Tredecim was supplanted by the worried visage of her longtime partner. "Not the kind of movement on the H.G. front I was hoping for-"

"Pete." The single exasperated exclamation stopped the man in his rush of words. "It's fine. It's just a date with Lancer."

The myriad expressions that cascaded across the man's face would have been outrageously comical had she not been eminently distracted by the press of soft breasts against her lower back. He regained his composure and pointed a single stern finger at her. "I'll brief Claudia. You have five minutes." His visage disappeared, the stone returning to its innocuous form.

Silence once again reigned in the room, a long sigh erupting from Myka as she stretched, her spine popping back into place. She turned, the stone still grasped in her hand, and smiled at the woman who now looked at her with a single eyebrow raised in silent amusement. "Alright, alright. I'll read you in. First, though, I am not having this conversation unless I get to feel you again so move it, woman." Myka's hands shoved Helena back away from the edge of the bed, soft laughter filling the room. Myka settled beneath the covers, one leg draped over Helena's thighs, her hand holding the stone cast negligently over Helena's waist. Soft cotton sheets covered them from the cooling room and Myka sighed in comfort as she settled against the pillow. "You've got a doppelganger, apparently."

Helena smirked, her hand tracing over Myka's forearm. "That's rather the point of why I'm here."

A smirk curved Myka's mouth and she propped her head up on her hand, giving Helena the full effect of the expression. "Now Pete knows."

"Rather trusting of you, darling. What if I'm the doppelganger?" The tracing of Helena's fingers arched upward, outlining the muscle of Myka's bicep.

"Two reasons. Firstly, I'd already be dead if your cover had been blown." Myka leaned over Helena, leaning down over the prone woman, her voice lowering in a teasing purr. "Secondly, what kind of spy would willingly choose to be the honeypot instead of grabbing their objective?"

Helena hummed a quiet laugh, her palm curving around the flexed bicep under her touch. Her other arm was delciiously trapped betwixt them, held beneath the weight of Myka against her side. "You have good instincts. I am indeed H.G. Wells, born one hundred thirty four years ago." Myka's lips were distractingly close. Helena's eyes didn't trace farther than watching the twitches and quirks of the expressive mouth so close to her own.

"Besides." Myka's nose nudged against Helena's chin, her lips pressing against the curve of her captive's jaw. "The only thing outstanding that can do that effectively enough to bypass our security is that thimble, which you are not wearing."

A soft slap against her shoulder had Myka chuckling against Helena's throat. "There's also the spool of thread and the necklace."

Myka raised her head and grinned. "You're a terrible spy." The stone in her hand vibrated against the bed, sending shivers through Helena as she squirmed away from the stone, pressing her naked form against Myka more closely. "Mmm. Good to know." Her thumb rapidly traced over the smooth surface of the stone as she brought it to her face. Pete's agitated visage appeared on the stone's surface. "Hi, Pete."

"What do you know?"

Myka smirked. "Helena hasn't been in the warehouse in the last hour."

Pete frowned, his narrowed eyes darting over her face for a long moment before what codeword she had actually used clicked in his brain. "By the gods. Myka, you didn't."

She glanced down at the woman in bed with her, who arched an eyebrow in assent. Myka turned the stone as she extended her arm out more fully, allowing it to display the image of the two of them prone, covered to the shoulders by white cotton. "Like I said, Pete. Lancer." Helena leaned her head against Myka's, smirking at the spluttering man shown on the stone. "If you can think of a better alibi, I'm listening."

"I am so ferociously not asking. Claudia's been read in, I've still got to check on Artie and Leena. We're going to have to use Moscow protocol."

"Not if it's connected to others, Pete. Leave Artie and Leena out of it until you get direction from Lady Frederick, then decide what protocol to use." Myka glanced at Helena, her eyes tracing quickly over the deceptively calm features. The way that Helena's fingers were tracing over Myka'a thigh was not helping her steadiness. Especially with the way that when her nails scraped along her tensed muscle, it sent a shivers along her spine. Turning her attention back to Pete, she could see the discomfort on his features at her distraction. "With what's happened recently, we need to keep things close to the vest. Ring me back when you've briefed the Lady. We need her on this."

"Whoever is imitating me will know everything about me but one thing, Pete." Helena smiled, a wicked smile teasing as she looked up at Myka. "I'm equally dextrous with both hands."

Pete shook his head. "TMI! I'll keep this in hand. Stay our aces and I'll keep the home fires burning."

Myka arched a brow at that, shooting Pete a stern look. His eyes tightened slightly, and she nodded, mouthing her assent. "Awesome, we'll make sure to head out ASAP. Thanks, Pete!" She thumbed the release code and the stone returned to its inert state as she placed it on the side table. She turned back to the naked woman in her arms and pressed a firm kiss against soft lips. "We're not leaving this bed until we hear word about what the plan is."

Helena laughed, her hands sliding up and over the muscled shoulders before her. "And how shall we be spending our time, Knight Agent Bering, as you seem to have planned everything?"

Myka smirked as her hand slid beneath the covers, long fingers tracing gently over one breast, eliciting a groaned sigh from her partner. "I've got some further interrogation to do, naturally."

 


End file.
